


(un)expected

by knitbelove (ladymac111)



Series: The happy ending is when things are going to begin for me. [10]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Baz cries a lot, Childbirth, Fluff, M/M, Magical Pregnancy, Married Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, Mpreg, Parents Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Sexual Content, baz ruins christmas, magic conception, nonbinary minor character, not a/b/o, pregnant Baz, python (programming language) - Freeform, self-indulgent twaddle, simon and baz are impulsive romantic idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:35:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21638941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymac111/pseuds/knitbelove
Summary: I wished it was true, that I was somehow carrying his child. So I opened my mouth and I said, "I think I'd like to be a dad someday."And then we made history.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: The happy ending is when things are going to begin for me. [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/408247
Comments: 52
Kudos: 176





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like mpreg because that's what this is alllll about. Doesn't seem to be too popular in this fandom, as of my posting this there are only 3 other Snowbaz fics tagged mpreg.
> 
> Canonical with Facing Future and all the rest of those, though adjusted to account for Wayward Son.
> 
> Chapters will be posted every Sunday in December 2019, with the final chapter most likely going up 1st January.
> 
> I wrote the bulk of this in literally a week and I am SUPER pleased with how it came out. I sincerely hope that at least some of you enjoy this weird niche self-indulgence as much as I do.

BAZ

The first time I brought it up with Simon was the summer before our wedding.

I'd got home late from working on a paper at the library, so I took him for fish and chips to apologise. We ate sitting on a bench in the park near our flat, watching the Eastern sky change color as the July sunset happened behind us. A man, about our age, was kicking around a football with two small children, one maybe five and the other probably only two.

Simon's hand brushed mine as he stole some of my vinegar, and my heart swelled so suddenly I thought I might die of love.

I felt too vulnerable even to look at him, but my voice came out steady. "Have you ever thought about having children?"

He stilled beside me, and I felt his gaze on me. When I let myself glance at him, he turned quickly back to the father and his kids, and swallowed. "I mean … not recently."

It was hard not to feel crushed in the moment, but at my silence he kept talking. "It's been a long time since I thought I'd even get married, you know? And it wasn't because that's what I really wanted. Things are so different now, I guess I'm still catching up."

And that was plenty of an answer for me. We finished our meal and I took him home and loved him to pieces.

The second time I brought it up was a month or so after we were married. One of my colleagues caught me hungover and queasy on a Thursday (thanks to me forgetting to buy blood combined with Simon's office having a happy hour on a Wednesday, who does that?) and teased me about getting up the duff on my honeymoon. We had a good laugh about it, I ate a handful of antacids and didn't get sick after all.

At home that night I told Simon about it, and the look in those blue eyes took my breath away -- I wished it was true, that I was somehow carrying his child. So I opened my mouth and I said, "I think I'd like to be a dad someday."

Simon beamed at me and I imagined I would go blind from it. "I think I'd like that too. I'm glad you're not pregnant right now, though, that would be too soon."

I punched his shoulder and he tackled me into the couch and kissed me until I came in my pants.

The third time, he brought it up. It was his birthday, and he was completely sozzled and just absolutely all over me at a club I hadn't really wanted to come to anyway. He made me come with him to the toilets while he pissed, and on the way out he started laughing at the condom machine.

"We don't need those!" He said, much too loudly. I really hate clubs.

"Why, because we're married?"

He laughed, and it came out his nose. "No, silly. Because even if we could get pregnant, having a baby with you would just be…." He gestured grandly, but didn't finish his sentence. I cut him off from more alcohol after that.

And then the next day, he brought it up again, sober this time. And we had a conversation about it. And we kept having conversations now and then for a year and a half, and then just before our second anniversary Penny and Shep announced that they were expecting. So our talks about having kids got more serious, more concrete. We'll start with one, see how it goes from there. Send them to Watford if we can bear the thought of letting them go away to school. (My mother had the right idea -- if you're headmistress, you get to stay where your child is.)

"I'm ready to make you a dad," I said to Simon on a chilly March evening, while we were watching something stupid and cuddling on the couch.

"Okay, as long as you're a dad, too." He ran his hand lightly up and down my arm, and I quite melted. "I think we'll need more space, though."

So when our lease was getting ready to run out, I bought him a three-bedroom house. He likes the primary school just up the road and the big cosy kitchen; I like the spacious master bedroom and our neighbours (three families within a mile are mages, and know who we are). I made one bedroom into an office, and the one next to ours stayed empty except for a bit of storage we've been too lazy to deal with properly.

We were there when Penny had her baby, and she and Shep brought their son to visit once we were moved in, and it felt so good, so right to have a baby in the house.

That was six months ago.

Simon's been looking at adoption agencies online, and whenever he does he gets sad and angry about his own childhood. He wants to change the life of a kid who was like him, but I can't imagine having a child who couldn't Speak. And every child up for adoption is Normal, mages just don't give up kids to the Normal state.

And as much as Simon doesn't like it, I'm also the last heir of an ancient and powerful magickal family. I really want my child to be a blood relative of my mother.

I have no idea how we're going to resolve this.

It seems like the only feasible route is to use a surrogate. If Fiona was younger I'd ask her to donate eggs, but I'm sure she's not up for that. If one of my sisters did it, our child would at least be a Grimm, if not a Pitch. But Mordelia is only just sixteen, I can’t possibly ask her. Not any time soon, anyway. She may act like a young woman but she has to live her own life for a while before she can think about being the mother of her gay undead half-brother’s child.

There's the option of the Pitch heritage coming from me, of course. Find someone unrelated who's willing to loan us her body. But I think that plan failed twenty years ago.

Simon says I don't know whether I'm infertile. I can't imagine it would be any other way. I've barely got a heartbeat, I certainly can't create life.

I told Simon he might as well ask Agatha if he can inseminate her to give me a child. He took that as well as I expected. At least I was only banished to the couch.

That was the first of many fights. So we haven't talked about it in months. The door of the third bedroom stays shut.

I wanted to spend our first Christmas in our new house at home with Simon, instead of off with my father like we've always done before. And somehow, Simon convinced Daphne to bring him round. All six of them will come to our place on Christmas day.

It's going to be a nightmare.

Simon has big lists tacked to the walls in the kitchen, with everything he needs to do to prepare the feast that I've told him isn't necessary. He's stressed, and I can't stop fiddling with all our decorations. This is so much worse than going to Oxfordshire would have been, and I don't know why I thought it would be nice. We’ve got two days left and we’re about to tear each other apart.

I'm holed up in my office, pretending to work. Simon and I have just had a row, again. About goose. I don't even know what we were disagreeing on, I'm just so frustrated and stressed about _everything_ right now. The salt in the wound is walking by that closed door every day and knowing that I'm too much of a coward to try to grow our family in the way that would satisfy us both. I’m the reason we’re in this holding pattern. My fucking pride.

I wish what I’ve wished almost every day for three years - that I could carry a child. Carry _his_ child. I'd do it, for Simon. In a heartbeat. I'm sure it would ruin my body but I don't care, if we were dads I wouldn't need looks or anything at all. I'd teach our child everything I know about magic and we’d have love and that would be all that mattered.

I imagine a child of Simon's, like him before he got emptied. Electric and wild and full of life. I imagine them with the Pitch fire too, and that skin I used to have. The skin my mother had, deep and rosy. I imagine my wit and his heart.

There's a knock on the door, and I startle. "Come in."

The door creaks open as I turn around. Simon looks contrite. "Hey."

"Hi. Come to apologise?"

He frowns, but he nods. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I understand now."

What's he talking about? "You understand?"

He sighs and leans against the door frame, hands in his jeans pockets. "It's about your family, your dad. You still want him to be proud."

"I do not." I absolutely do. I hate it.

He smirks, and I blush a bit. Can't lie to him any more.

"I understand that they're still important to you, even though you're not a kid any more."

"They're not as important as you," I breathe, reaching for him. He steps over and I hook a finger in his belt loop. He cups the back of my head and I press my forehead into his belly. "I want to look into adopting."

I can almost hear his brain short-circuit. "Really?"

I nod. There's a rather long pause as he seems to be collecting his thought.

"Well … I've been thinking about how we could possibly do it your way."

I pull my head back, and he brushes my cheek. "My way?"

"The magic way." He licks his lips and takes a deep breath. "Penny and Shep had an interesting idea."

I’m almost angry that he’s been talking to them about this, about what I want. _My way._ It’s so intensely personal -- it took me over a year to even voice it to Simon, even though it was a fantasy. It could never happen. It was supposed to be just for us.

But then again, we’ve seen Penny’s twat. We don’t have secrets, the four of us. And Penelope Bunce is the smartest person I know. If anyone can figure this out, it's her.

I’m so excited I can barely breathe. “What did they say?”

I barely eat any dinner, I’m so nervous about what we're about to do. But I'm full of blood, which I'm sure will be important in this. I have to be as alive as possible.

Of course magic would be the answer. Assuming this all works. Simon created body parts out of thin air without even trying, so maybe if we try hard enough, do this right, we can make it happen again.

It’s a big maybe. But that makes it even more exciting. It makes me ready to do this immediately. I’ve waited plenty long.

He kisses me until I'm ready to burst out of my skin. I take his clothes off instead, and we tumble in bed for a few minutes before he pulls my cock through my pants and swallows it.

Not what I was expecting. I barely last thirty seconds and I'm jelly in his hands.

He climbs on top of my thighs, flushed and happy, naked and golden and glorious. His cock is hard between his legs, and I desperately want him to impregnate me. Somehow.

He pushes my t-shirt up -- I’m still wearing pants, too -- and he lays his hands on my belly, below my navel. He's gentle, reverent. _I love him so much_. 

"You still sure?" he whispers.

I have to swallow to find my voice. "Absolutely."

I lay my hands on his. My heart is pounding so hard I feel like I'm about to be sick from excitement. I summon my magic. " **Simon says.** "

It's like being in a wind tunnel, the way my magic rushes into him, more and more and pulling from deeper, deeper---

He presses his fingertips into the softness of my belly and opens his eyes. " **I want to have a baby**."

The fire is back in me in an instant, burning. How can this work if I'm incinerated? I'm delirious, exhausted suddenly, empty and full and flavoured with Simon like I haven't been in so long, so so long.

He's watching me, and I'm gasping and my vision is watery. I realize I'm clutching his wrists so hard that my knuckles ache.

I let go; his skin is red where I was touching him but he doesn't pull back. He keeps his hands right on me, warm against the skin of my belly. Right where my womb would be, if I had one.

Right where we want it to be.

I lose track of time as I lie there beneath him, swept away by odd sensation after odd sensation. I let my eyes close; I'm so exhausted. Giving my magic to Simon is ridiculous. I'd do it forever.

Eventually he shifts, climbs down off my legs and lies beside me, his head on my shoulder. He wraps one arm around me, right over the bare skin of my belly.

"D'you feel any different?" he murmurs.

I have to force myself to breathe. The bedroom smells like an electrical fire. "I feel … something."

SIMON

I wish we'd known what to expect with this. But of course like everything with me and magic, it's never been done.

Since I cast the spell, things haven't gone as I expected. I thought we'd make love right after, but he was too tired and shaky, so I simply held him until he fell asleep, and then wanked in the bathroom. 

This morning, Baz feels very strange, and he can't seem to hide it. He's trying, obviously, but he's losing focus a lot, starting into space, getting emotional. He puts his hands on his belly when he's not thinking about it. He told me he feels feverish, and I think his skin is less cool than usual. He's been drinking an awful lot of blood, too; makes me glad I stocked up. There's some pink in his cheeks and lips, and I almost tell him he's glowing.

I can only imagine the spell worked. It did _something_.

It's Christmas Eve and I'm torn between stressing over him and stressing over his family's visit tomorrow. I've done most of my cooking prep, and Baz has been puttering around the house non-stop, "fixing" things. Like he has been, but weirder today.

When the sun sets at 4:15, I find him in our spare room. The one that's cold and dusty, that we've been avoiding. I haven't been in here since August.

He's at the window, looking out at our little frozen garden, and he glances at me when I get close. "Hallo, Snow."

"Hi." I wrap my arms around him from behind and kiss his neck. He's warmer than the air in here. "You busy?"

He shakes his head and sets his hands on mine. "Shall we try?"

"Try what?"

A little shiver runs through him, and I tighten my arms. "You know. Conceiving."

I'm giddy all at once, confused and clumsy with emotion. "You, uh. You think that's still necessary?"

I feel him shrug under my cheek. "I've no idea how this works. Best cover all the possibilities."

I laugh, and turn him to face me. There's a pale blush in his face. "You're not just randy?"

He scowls his fake scowl. "Not _just_."

I grin at him, and I'm already getting hard. He's so lovely, glowing in the fading light. And he wants me.

I kiss him. He's warm and pliant, opens his mouth under mine with a soft sigh.

Let's do this.

BAZ

I was nervous to get back into bed with Simon, after what we did last night.

Not because of what he did, and not because it hurt. I’m … not sure that what I felt was pain. But it was odd, confusing. It’s continued most of the day today as well, and I finally started to feel like I was settling down a couple of hours ago.

I’m different now. My body is. I felt things changing inside, and a little bit ago, while Simon was busy, I checked myself out.

I’ve got a new orifice.

I know _what_ it is, obviously. What it’s meant to be, where it leads, what it does. Assuming everything works.

But, well. I’ve lived twenty-eight years without one, haven’t I?

And I suppose calling it a vagina might be generous. I’ve still got my cock and bollocks too, and this new opening is right behind them, between my legs. I don’t know what the criteria are for identifying a vagina but I’m fairly certain that’s not part of it. 

No, that’s stupid. It’s a vagina.

I guess I’m intersex now?

None of this nomenclature business matters, of course. It’s a means to an end.

Simon Snow and I are going to conceive a child.

He takes me to bed and undresses me slowly. I’m warm, and I feel soft in his hands. I take his clothes off more quickly.

I feel something singular once Simon's inside me, when we rock together. It feels like magic. And maybe it's my new anatomy, that's plenty magic, but it feels like more than that.

I take his face in my hands, and he opens his lovely blue eyes. "Baz…"

"I love you," I whisper. " **I want to have your baby**."

He shudders, and I almost come on the spot. (That's new.)

This feels totally different than when we've had intercourse before. Which makes sense, but I'm really shocked at the pleasure. At how perfect it feels to have him inside me.

He presses a sloppy kiss under my ear and exhales raggedly, and I try to catch my breath but an orgasm shudders through me, deep and rumbling, thunder in the distance.

Simon thrusts harder. My hips feel like wet noodles. I try to pull one knee up, and Simon hooks his elbow under my leg.

Oh, fuck, he's so deep. I'm trembling, and Simon is shaking me, the bed is creaking, his breath is coming in harsh gasps. He's about to come and I want it so desperately….

"I love you," I gasp.

"Oh, fuck," he breathes. "Oh, god, _Baz…_."

* * *

My youngest half-sibling Theo's come out as non-binary earlier this year, just before they started at Watford in September. This is my first time seeing them since, and they really seem happy. I couldn’t be prouder. They also tell me that apparently Father didn't say anything nasty, not even just to Daphne or the girls. I like to think that I took all of that for my younger sibling, so they could just be themself without any parental to-do and what will the Families think like I had to endure when I came out as gay.

I’m sure it wasn’t easy, though. Coming out to our father. I make sure to tell Theo how proud I am of them for living their truth.

And now here I am, the original openly queer Grimm child, about to drop an unprecedented bomb at Christmas dinner if I can't keep my mouth shut about it. And I don't think I can, even if it feels totally wrong to announce it so soon.

Really, I shouldn't be able to know. It's much, much too early.

But I _know._

I haven’t even told Simon, but I think surprising him with the rest of my family will be memorable, if nothing else.

Father gives a toast at dinner, like he always does. Mordelia is allowed a glass of wine this year, but I have water. I'm not sure anyone has noticed.

I can't keep it in.

Once Father is done I clear my throat, before Simon can get up to carve the goose. "We've got an announcement," I say, and Simon beams at me. I smile back and I don't even try to hide how delighted I am. "Simon and I are going to have a baby."

Daphne gasps in delight, and Father's eyes crinkle in a genuine smile. "You're adopting?" Mordelia says. "You found a mage child?"

I feel like my face will split, like I'll go up in sparks from pure delight. "No. I'm pregnant."

Everyone falls silent, until Simon stammers. "Well, we're going to try--"

"No," I interrupt, and give him the most meaningful look I've got. His eyes go huge and his mouth falls open in shock. I look back at my silent family. "We worked out a spell, and I'm pregnant. Right now."

Simon looks like he's not breathing.

"... Oh," Father says.

I'm quite proud of myself for rendering him speechless. Daphne is blinking quickly, and my siblings look like they're trying to put the pieces together.

Simon bursts into giggles. "My god," he breathes, raking a hand through his hair. "You -- wow."

I can't stop smiling at him. "Yeah."

He explodes out of his chair and he's kissing me like I've given him the sun.

"You magnificent bastard," he gasps between kisses. "How can you _possibly_ know already?"

"I just do," I tell him, ignoring my family. "I feel it. I feel your magic inside me."

A tear drips down his cheek as he chokes out another laugh. "You're the most romantic man on Earth, Baz Pitch."

"This is quite a joke you've prepared, Basilton," my father says, and when I finally turn my attention to him, he's pale.

"No joke," I say smoothly. "I'm carrying your first grandchild."

"It's a Christmas miracle," Mordelia quips, and Theo laughs out loud. Father looks like I’ve just told him I’m actually the prophet Elijah.

SIMON

I almost don't taste dinner, I'm too blown away by Baz's announcement. When we're finished, Daphne puts the kids to work cleaning up the kitchen (I’d be worried, except they’ve all got their wands, and they’re good kids), and the rest of us go out to the living room with more mulled wine and a pint of warm blood for my husband. It's his fourth today, and he's positively glowing. I tell him so, and he giggles.

"I suppose pregnancy agrees with me?"

"I didn't think you could get lovelier," I murmur, pulling him close to me on the couch and kissing his cheek. His mug smells like iron but I don't mind.

Malcolm clears his throat; he's pointedly not looking at us and he's scowling. He looks just like his son, and Baz snorts a laugh.

“Honestly, Father.”

“Oh, be kind,” Daphne says, but she’s pressing her lips together. “We didn’t even know you were trying to have children.”

“Why do you think I bought this place?” he says sourly. “If we were just going to be the two of us I’d prefer a flat in the city or something, not out here surrounded by Normals.”

“Gi’ o’er,” I growl, trying to keep my voice low. I still think of myself as Normal, despite … well. Me. All of this.

He narrows his eyes at me, but he doesn’t have anything smart to say. “It all happened at once,” he tells Daphne. “The actual … doing of it. We’d been talking about having children for years, but hadn’t worked out the logistics.”

“Logistics,” Malcolm scoffs. “I can’t believe you’d just go and _do_ this so quickly, without doing any research on the safety.”

I can feel Baz bristle; rigour has always been his _thing_ , and to be accused of neglecting it hurts him, even if it’s true. I can feel the strop radiating off him. “The things I haven’t checked the safety of would shock you.”

“I’m sure,” Malcolm sighs.

“Why can’t you just be happy?” Baz entreats, and he sounds like he’s trying not to cry. “It’s a shock for us too, but we’ve wanted this for so long. It’s _literally_ a miracle.” He swallows hard. “My mother’s line won’t die with me.”

Daphne bites her lip and looks away. She looks just like Agatha’s mum when something unpleasant would come up.

Malcolm looks up from his mug, focusing his steely gaze on Baz. “Have you told your aunt?”

“The only people who know are in this house.”

“How far along are you?” Daphne murmurs.

Baz glances at me, unsure, nervous. All I can do is stare at him, I’ve no idea how to say this.

“Well,” he says, his voice wobbling a bit. “Um. About twenty-four hours.”

His parents are staring. Daphne finds her voice first. “Since you … since you did a test?”

“No, since--” He swallows. “Since … conception, as it were.”

Malcolm huffs in disbelief. “Basilton, this is ridiculous.”

“How is this even _possible_?” Daphne says.

“ _Literally_ do not make me tell you,” Baz snaps. “This is already far too personal. It’s magic, all right? Simon’s magic and mine. We did this together, and I just _know_.”

Daphne looks sad, and Malcolm’s ears are red.

Baz looks back at me, and he sighs, and he looks exhausted. “I know it’s all ridiculous. We have no idea what’s going to happen, how this will work. But we just want to have a child, and this was the best possible solution, and we … went for it. We didn’t know it would happen right away. Didn’t know it would work at all.”

I rub his shoulder, since I don’t know what else to do. He tips his head towards me and pushes his hair behind his ear.

Daphne takes a careful breath. “Mordelia was an accident.”

I think I mis-heard her, but the silence in the room is deafening. From the kitchen, I can hear the kids discussing how to pack up the potatoes.

Malcolm looks like he’s trying to disappear. “Daphne…”

“I think we ought to tell them.” She looks up at Baz. “We’d wanted to wait a couple more years, until you were settled at Watford. We didn’t want you to think we were pushing you out by having more children. But … well. Best-laid plans.”

I’m not sure exactly, but I think Baz had told me that Mordelia was born the spring before we started school. That would certainly make me feel like my stepmum was trying to get rid of me, right when I went off to boarding school for the first time.

“Why are you telling me this?” Baz whispers.

“I just….” She leans back in her chair and takes a sip of wine. “I understand that these things sometimes happen in their own time.”

The look on Baz’s face is one I’m used to seeing, but I still haven’t figured out what it means. It makes me want to hide him away from everything horrible. I hold him closer and take his hand.

“Please don’t tell her,” Malcolm says softly, and Baz laughs a little.

“I’d never. She’s a treasure, I’d never hurt her.” He squeezes my hand, then takes a sip of his blood. “Well, this has been a lovely Christmas so far. All sorts of family secrets.”

Malcolm snorts a laugh. “Not the worst one we’ve had.”

Baz smiles at him, glances at me. My ears are burning -- that worst one was on me. I suppose I don’t mind Baz and his parents having a little laugh at my expense as long as they’re actually acting like they like each other.

“Mum!” Bryony appears in the doorway. “Theo’s eating the goose!”

“It’s for eating!” Theo calls from the kitchen. “It’s food!”

Baz grins and elbows me. “I think you’d best wrest back control of your kitchen from the horde.”

“Yeah, I think so. Make sure no one’s died.”

He brushes a kiss to my lips. “Cracking parenting, love.”


	2. Chapter 2

BAZ

It turns out that Simon Snow is a kinky fuck. I just hadn't found what his kink was yet.

My pregnancy is showing now; I don't just look chubby, I've got a round little baby bump. And Simon fucking loves it. He touches me every chance he gets, and my renewed libido (after a month of exhaustion and queasiness) means we've spent a lot of time in bed this week.

He likes to come on my belly, and his face when he does … well, I've got a true appreciation for my new ability to have multiple orgasms.

I've never felt so adored.

Which is wonderful to have at the end of a day spent trying not to let anyone I work with figure out what's going on with me. I can't hide forever, obviously, but I wish I had more time to sort something out. Maybe when it’s obvious I'll just spell myself? But that seems like a lot of work, and I do sort of want to show off. _Look what my sexy husband did to me! I get to be a father!_

But I don’t know what’s the best way to juggle things -- either hiding my pregnancy at work or embracing it, without making anything weird for the future. I won't be coming back here after my parental leave, I'm planning to get out of Normal law, but I need to keep doors open. I don't know if the best way to do that is with the truth (well, something they'll accept) or with hiding entirely.

I have to decide soon. I'm only nine weeks along (really only seven, but they count these things weirdly) but my trousers don't button any longer. If I tell work that I’m pregnant, my Normal colleagues will come to the conclusion that I'm trans, which is fine, I suppose. It's safe enough. Other men have been pregnant before, just not quite like this.

It's all been quite strange. And not just the weight gain and the belly, things are happening everywhere. I didn't think about this at all before we went for it, and it hadn't occurred to me that so much of my body would change. I suppose I never really considered the reality of pregnancy at all, I just wanted a baby.

The first thing was my mood got weird, and then my beard basically stopped growing. Next my nipples started getting sore, and I started getting headaches. My appetite has been all over the place; I'm going through blood twice as fast as I did before, and eating as much as Simon when I can stomach it at all.

For a while I was just putting on weight all over, and I wasn't a fan. I'm starting to settle in now, though. I suppose I am pretty vain, it was genuinely upsetting to see my face filling out. I like all those hard lines I've got.

I'm willing to sacrifice it for our child, though.

It's the past week or so that I've really been feeling pregnant, aware of the life I'm growing. Simon's interest is helping that, I think. And of course my belly has swollen right up in a decidedly _you're having a baby, Basilton Pitch_ kind of way. It’s not huge or anything, but it’s there. Mum was delighted when I sent her a shitty mirror selfie of my new profile.

I'm seeing my nurse midwife for the first time today. She's Penny's as well; she and Shep swore that she was not only good but would keep our secrets. Well, my secret. The vampire thing is even more sensitive than our magickal conception. Plus she's fairly powerful, as mages go, and said already that she'll allow us to do a home birth no matter what so that we can avoid muddling things with the NHS.

We talked to her last week, setting this up. I'm still not certain about her, but Simon likes her. (Simon likes everyone. He's not the one getting her up in his twat.)

Simon and I have both taken the day off work to meet her at home. He's bubbling with excitement, been baking since he woke up; there's two dozen scones cooling on the kitchen island and I think he's working on Jaffa cakes now.

I didn't sleep a wink and I feel like throwing up. I've had my morning blood, though.

The doorbell rings. "Can you get that?" Simon calls from the kitchen. "I've got sticky hands."

_For the baby,_ I remind myself, putting down my laptop on the coffee table and smoothing my palms down my thighs before I stand up. I'm in pyjamas and I wish for a moment I'd got dressed, but I suppose I'll only be undressing shortly anyway.

I open the door to a smiling woman with deep brown skin and long ponytail of braids with pink streaks. “Hello!” she says brightly, and her breath steams in the February air. “Mr. Pitch?”

“Basil, please.” I step aside. “Come in.”

I shut the door behind her as Simon appears from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “Vanessa!”

“Hello again, Simon.” She shakes his hand, and looks between us both with a big grin. “Well, when I met you the first time I never expected we’d be in this situation.”

I raise an eyebrow to keep from smiling with glee. “Quite.”

She sets down a plastic tub of gear, and I hang up her coat. “Well then.” She gives me an eager look. “Where shall we do this?”

“Bedroom, I think?”

Simon licks his lip and nods, and I suppose that’s that. We head upstairs, and Simon and I perch on my side of the bed while Vanessa clears herself a spot by the window.

“All right, first things first. Have you thought about what you’d like your child to call you?” she says as she’s setting up her things. “Admittedly I’ve never attended a birth with two dads, but I’ve seen two mums a few times.”

Simon blinks at me, like he never considered it. “Oh,” he says. “Well … yeah, I dunno.”

“You should think about it,” she says. “Maybe it’s just me, but I like to start calling parents by their parent-names early on. I feel like it helps prepare everyone.”

Simon’s face lights up. “My friend Becca calls her dad Papa.”

I snort. “You thinking that one for me?”

“You’re the toff in this marriage.”

I feel stupid laughing, but the look on his face is too wonderful. “I’ll think about it.”

Vanessa grins. “That’ll do for today, then.” She’s holding a tablet computer. “Serious talk, now. I’ve got the medical history you gave me by phone last week, and … well. I’ve done some reading, but didn’t exactly find anything about _any_ of this. Seems like we’re in uncharted waters with you blokes.”

I nod, and I can’t help feeling a flutter of nerves in my belly. “Think you’re up to it?”

“I’m always up to it.” She winks at us. “So let’s get up to date. You told me when we spoke you know the date of conception, December 24th? That would be week three, so we’re in week nine now, right?”

Simon meets my eye and nods. “Math checks out.”

“Right, good. And how are you feeling since last week?”

“More of the same,” I say. “Still feeling a bit sick sometimes, but not too bad.”

“Keeping food down? Blood?”

“Yes.”

“You do look nice and pink today.” She steps close, gesturing at my face with her hand. “Do you mind?”

I shake my head, and she presses the back of her hand to my cheek, my forehead, and gives a little laugh. “Well, you’re not exactly feverish. I don’t suppose you know your baseline temperature?”

I’ve not seen a doctor since I was five. “No idea.”

“Scratch that, then.” She marks something on her tablet. “Putting on weight still?”

“Not this week. But I’ve only got one pair of trousers that fits now.”

She smiles at the tablet. “Lovely, that’s about what we’d expect at this point from someone as trim as you. Right, blood pressure?”

Simon laughs. “Merlin, talk about uncharted territory.”

“Think it’ll mean anything if we try?”

“Another one of those things I’ve never had done,” I say. “My pulse was thirty this morning, that mean anything?”

“Best guess, you’re dead.” She says it lightly, and I’m surprised to not be offended by it. She thinks it’s fun, this death humour. I think I might like her after all.

“Right, then.” She sets the tablet on the dresser. “Those are all things we’ll just have to live without. Ready for the hands-on bit?”

I am absolutely not ready, but I never will be. “Forging right ahead.”

“No need to get undressed yet,” she says. “Just have a lie down, I’m going to feel your belly first.”

Simon shifts over to his side of the bed and sits cross-legged as I lie back on my pillows. Vanessa pushes her sleeves up and washes her hands in sanitizer, then she perches beside my thighs and gently lifts my shirt up to my ribs, pushes my waistbands down all the way below my newly swollen stomach.

“You’ve got a nice round bump here, Basil,” she says, touching me gently. “To be honest I was a bit skeptical that you were actually pregnant, but here we are.” Her hands are delightfully warm, and I take a deep breath, trying to relax. “Any pain or discomfort?”

“No.”

“Very good.” She presses a little more firmly, with a focussed expression. “Morgana, whatever spell you used certainly grew you a good uterus. Just as it should be.” She sits back and pulls my shirt down. “Well, there’s no question you’ve got something in there. You thought about writing a paper about what you did? This changes everything in fertility.”

I glance at Simon, who looks a bit stunned. “I think,” I say carefully, “maybe we’ll wait and see how everything turns out first.”

Vanessa nods. “Quite reasonable. All right, next I need you naked waist to knees. Shall I step out?”

I roll my eyes and sit up. “If you’re seeing it all anyway, what’s the point?”

Simon laughs, and Vanessa shrugs. “Some people are modest.”

I take off my pyjama bottoms and hand them to Simon, then step out of my pants and accept the paper drape that Vanessa hands me. I am feeling a bit exposed, so I hold it over myself as I lie back down.

“Right,” Vanessa says, pulling on a pair of gloves. “I’m going to just start with an external exam, get a sense of your situation.”

I nod, and I don’t try to speak. Simon reaches out, and I take his hand gratefully.

She sits back by my knees. “Okay, heels together, and pull them almost all the way up to your bum.”

Here goes everything. I pull the drape up so the edge is at my knees, and do as she says. She touches my inner thigh with one hand, and I follow her directive to let my legs drop apart.

“Very good, thank you. Just some little touching now, nothing should hurt.” She clicks on a little light that’s on her ear, and disappears from my view under the drape.

She touches my penis first, turning it around, pulling my foreskin back a bit, then moves down to my scrotum. That gets a bit more attention, and I know she’s feeling for lumps. Standard genital exam. “Excellent,” she murmurs. “Everything’s in order there.” She sits up a bit and carefully keeps her light pointed out of my face. “Can you still get erections?”

I blush harder than I’ve ever blushed in my life. My ears are actually burning. “Yes.”

“And orgasms?”

I have to swallow. “Well ... they’re different now. It’s complicated.”

She nods. “All right, I don’t need details. Just curious, really. This has never happened before as far as anyone knows.”

I’ve made myself into a medical marvel. Wonderful.

She picks up a small bottle from her kit. “I’ll get to the internal exam now. Again, shouldn’t hurt, but please tell me if you need me to stop.”

“Okay.”

She squeezes some lube onto her fingers and goes back between my legs. She lifts my bollocks out of the way, and slides her finger around my new vagina. “Very interesting.” She glances up at me. “Do you find you have natural lubrication?”

I nod. “Yeah. Been pretty wet, actually. It’s annoying.”

She chuckles. “Yeah, I know. You get used to it if you’ve got one of these, but I suppose it’s all new for you.” She changes her posture, getting a bit lower. “Right, now. Basil, please take a deep breath, and blow it out slowly.”

On my exhale, she slides two fingers inside me, and it’s difficult not to squirm right off the bed. But I hold myself still, try my best to keep breathing, squeeze Simon’s hand.

“Okay?” Vanessa says, not taking her eyes off my groin.

“Okay.” Not good, but. Okay.

She sets one hand on my belly. “This might be a little uncomfortable now.” She presses deeper, like she’s rooting around inside me, squishing me between her hands. I’ve never felt any sensation remotely like this.

And then she touches _something_ , and I flinch even as I try to bite back a yelp.

“Sorry love, sorry.” Her hand is out of me in an instant. “That’s just your cervix.”

“Crowley,” I groan. It didn’t hurt, but it made my entire body feel weird. “Is it always like that?”

“For some people, yeah. Strong vagus nerve response.” She pulls off her gloves and switches off her light. “Wanted to be sure you had a cervix, since it keeps baby safely inside. And I think that'll do for today, I'll spare you the speculum.”

I put my legs down and try to control my instinct to jump up and flee. But Simon is here, one hand in mine and the other carefully touching my belly. I shut my eyes for a moment to focus on his presence.

Vanessa is up again, making some notes on her tablet before she goes back into her things. “I think it’s time for your first ultrasound scan,” she says. “If you’re up for it.”

I glance at Simon, who shrugs. “Your call.”

“I can do it externally,” Vanessa reassures me. “Just on the belly. It won't be as clear as a trans-vag but it'll work. You can put your pants back on, if you like.”

Simon gives me my pants and pyjama bottoms while her back is turned, and it feels good to be covered again.

It only takes her a minute to set up -- seems like she's got an app on her tablet, and all she has to do is plug in the ultrasound wand.

I lie down, and she gels up my lower belly and props up the screen on my legs, where all three of us can see it.

The black and white image looks just like every scan I've ever seen, fuzzy and moving. The difference this time is, it's my body, my baby. I’m watching the screen intently, though I have no idea what I’m looking at.

It takes Vanessa a couple of minutes before she gets anything that looks like a shape to me, and then she slows her movement of the wand and taps things on the screen -- making little marks, snapping screenshots. "Looks good so far," she murmurs. "I haven't quite got a clear picture yet, since your pubic bone is still a bit in the way. But I've found a pair of ovaries, and the fetus is definitely in the uterus and not in a tube, which is excellent."

I breathe a small sigh of relief -- I hadn't known about ectopic pregnancy until after we'd already conceived, but it looks like we were spared that.

“Oh,” Vanessa says softly, leaning closer to her screen and pressing the wand into me a bit more firmly.

“What is it?” Simon says, clutching my hand. I almost don't dare to breathe.

Vanessa focuses for another minute, and then brandishes her left wrist -- I realize that the tiny antique watch on her wrist is her piece. " **For** **the 'gram** ," she murmurs as she takes a snapshot on the screen, then glances at us over her shoulder with a big grin. “See here?” She points at the image -- it's just blobs, but it's clearer with the spell than it was before, less blurry. "That's one amniotic sac, and here's another. You’re having twins.”

I'm frozen with shock, and Simon almost crushes my hand. "No," I say.

"Yes!" Vanessa counters. "It's not a particularly clear picture, but you've absolutely got two babies. I imagine that’s why you’re showing so nicely."

"Twins?" Simon sputters. "We, I … _twins_?"

Vanessa chuckles. "Yes, twins."

I start giggling. I feel … delirious. Absolutely stupid with joy! Merlin, Morgana, and Methuselah….

Vanessa gives me a faux stern look. "Basil, we can’t hear their heartbeats when you're shaking."

I burst out laughing, and press my fist over my mouth to try to stifle it, but it really doesn't work. Vanessa's ultrasound wand is bouncing on my stomach, and Simon is clutching me like he's going to fall over if he lets go, and tears are filling my eyes and _I'm carrying twins!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit short, but the next one is REALLY long, so.

SIMON

Baz is seven months pregnant for my birthday, officially in his third trimester. We're celebrating on a Friday night, and when I get home from work he's waiting for me. He's swollen and glowing and so beautiful that we nearly don't make it to our dinner reservation at all, but he says the babies are hungry so staying in bed all evening isn't an option.

He's so warm these days -- has been since we conceived. It must be part of the spell, I think. He's still drinking lots of blood, but he's pink and warm and eating lots of actual food too.

It's a hot night, too warm for jackets at the restaurant even though we'd planned to dress up. We're both sweating, and I help Baz roll up the cuffs on his shirt. It's one that Daphne had made for him, like what he usually wears but with enough space for our children while he's carrying them. He also cast **These aren't the droids** on his bump before we went out, which was a bit disappointing -- I can't enjoy his figure. But it stops him getting called _miss_ , which is good.

He's coming off a depressive episode right now. Been pretty bad for a while, almost two months. He’s had a lot of trouble going to work, since he'd told them he was pregnant he couldn't exactly suddenly hide it when it was too much for him, when his belly started really attracting attention. And they were fine, his colleagues, but the public gives him problems if he's feeling fragile. He gets a lot of stares on the Tube and got home crying more than once.

He said he was just hormonal for a while, but I know his depression symptoms at this point. And I always wish there was anything I could do.

Adding to his bad mood is the fact that he's been unbelievably forgetful recently -- he's just really absent-minded, which he's literally never been before. Leaving things out, misplacing his keys almost every day, he's even walked out the door to work in his socks more than once. Apparently it's a pregnancy thing, and he absolutely hates it. He's become a bit clumsy too -- a few weeks ago he broke down sobbing because he spilled a bit of milk on the kitchen counter while he was making tea, and he spent the rest of the afternoon in bed wrapped in a blanket. He wouldn't let me try to comfort him.

But things have been looking up - yesterday he laughed when he found his wallet in the freezer next to his stash of blood, and he's been singing to the babies again. So tonight is a celebration of him feeling better, as much as it is of me turning twenty-eight. Having a husband who knows that I love him, who smiles and says it back and _means it_ , is the best birthday present I could ask for.

After dinner, I finger him until he screams, and then he fucks me through the mattress, growling and rough with a truly villainous grin on his lovely face. I come sobbing his name, my cock rubbing to completion against his heavy, swollen belly.

I’m so fucked. This has ruined me. Nothing will ever be as sexy as Baz when he’s pregnant.

BAZ

Thankfully the hot weather has broken by the time I wake up the morning after Simon’s birthday celebration. I’m terribly unused to being over-warm (or even _just warm_ ), but it helps that both Mum and Penelope have been commiserating with me about being heavily pregnant in this sort of detestable weather. And Penny has just announced that she’s expecting again, she’s three months on and due at the end of the year. She’s lucky that she’s not going to have hot weather during -- as she calls it -- the _beached whale stage_.

I’ve been feeling that for a while. And I’m sure some of it is my bastard brain, the return of some truly awful moods. But even now that things are brightening up, I’m heavy and tired all the time. I suppose that’s not unusual with twins, at this stage. At my last checkup, Vanessa said it looks like they’ll both be quite big, if they make it to full term. I’m already practically the size of a full-term single pregnancy, feels like.

Leave it to Simon Snow to be over the top in making babies, too. At least he gets off on this.

The best part of my last scan was that Vanessa managed to get clear anatomy pictures of both babies. It should have happened a couple of months ago, but every time she was here they wouldn't play along, not even with her Instagram spell. Too crowded in there, I guess. Or they just take after both of their dads.

But we know now that we’re having a boy and a girl; Simon says he knew it from a dream back in April, but now we know for sure. It literally couldn’t have been more perfect if we’d known what we were doing, could it? Which means we get to keep both lists of baby names that we’ve been making.

The window’s open, and the curtains waving in the gentle breeze are disgustingly poetic. I slept mostly naked last night, just pants and a sheet, and now I’ve cooled off enough that I want a bit more.

I haul myself up to sitting to grab the blanket from the foot of the bed, and notice that Simon’s not here. But then I hear footsteps on the stairs, and he appears in the doorway moments later, carrying the new laptop I got him for his birthday and a cup of coffee. I’m a little surprised that I can’t smell it, but I guess I’ve been kind of congested recently.

“Good morning!” He’s grinning, even though his face is still puffy from sleep. All of him is a bit puffy these days, he’s been putting on weight along with me. He's actually been a bit down on himself about that, which is ridiculous to me. Of course he's heavier than he was when we were eighteen, significantly so, but why would I want him to be gangly and hungry when instead I have his double chin and soft curves? He's absolutely perfect like this. He looks like a dad.

He's been wearing his glasses more frequently too -- not sure why, but I'm hardly complaining. They frame his gorgeous blue eyes just so, and he doesn't complain about fussing with contacts.

I pull my blanket up and lie back down as he climbs onto the bed. “Morning, love. Sleep well?”

“Beautifully.” He kisses my forehead, but before he can lean back I catch him by the neck and give him a proper kiss. I catch just a whiff of coffee on his breath.

“Mmm,” he breathes. “Did you sleep well too, darling?”

“Hm,” I laugh. “Not enough.”

“You were _wild_ last night,” he whispers. “Not surprised you’re worn out. How many orgasms did you have?”

I grin my toothiest grin at him as he sits back. “Four.”

“Lucky bastard.”

I _am_ lucky. Not just because I can have multiple orgasms now (like, seriously, an _obscene_ number), but because of all of this. My husband, my children, my entire life. I relax into my pillows and close my eyes while Simon gets comfortable, and after a minute I hear him start clickety-clacking on his computer. The sound is a nice one, soothing and repetitive. I let myself doze. Maybe I’ll be able to get a nap in before the weight of my belly cuts off circulation to my legs and I have to roll over.

But more sleep is apparently not in the cards, because someone inside me gives a wiggle, and then a kick, right at my ribs. I press my hand to my belly. “Stop that.”

“Hm?” Simon says.

“Baby’s kicking.”

“Hm.”

He’s not interested. I open my eyes, and he’s staring intently at his screen, eyes darting across it while he taps away. I don't mind; they've been kicking a lot for a few weeks so this isn't novel.

There’s another kick to my ribs, and then one down below my navel. Of course they’re both into it now, these two will be no end of trouble for me. I pull the blankets down and touch that spot with my other hand. “What’re you doing, little one?”

There’s a flurry of motion in response, and I stifle a giggle. I love it when they respond to my voice; it’s only just started happening and it’s really miraculous. “They know their Papa,” I say to Simon. “Come feel, Dad, they’re really having a dance party.”

He still doesn’t react.

I feel petulant. “Simon, are you listening?”

He turns his head slowly, as if dragging himself away. “... underscore?”

I burst out laughing.

Crowley, his _face!_ Those round glasses on his round eyes, the _utter confusion_ that I wasn’t Python or whatever he’s got there. I love the man but he can’t do two things at once to save his life. The thick Lancashire accent he managed is the cherry on top.

Simon’s bemused look gradually grows into a grin, and my mirth is apparently contagious since he’s laughing too. Eventually he gets a word in when there's a break in my wheezing laughter. “What?”

“Underscore!” I gasp.

“Yeah, underscore?” he says, shaking his head, obviously still trying to figure out what’s happening. “It’s a throwaway--”

I laugh even harder. “Oh, Crowley, you weren’t listening at all, were you?”

“You said something, but I--”

“Here, here.” I grab his hand and set it on my belly, where one of the babies is still pummeling my ribs. I grin at him as his eyes widen, and then cough a couple of times as my diaphragm keeps taking a beating. “Just wanted to show you this.”

The twins both give a vigorous wiggle, and Simon’s dumbstruck with delight, like he always is when he gets to feel them moving. It never gets old.

He shifts his computer off to the side and rolls into me, both hands on my belly as our children keep dancing. "Marvellous," he breathes.

I wrap my arm around his shoulders and kiss his forehead, and he tips his head to to kiss my mouth as he tightens his embrace around my body.

I chuckle. "You seem like you're ready for another birthday present."

"Hmm, maybe so." He deepens the kiss, putting more of his weight on me, bumping his hips into mine so I can feel his cock beginning to harden.

"Insatiable."

"Only for you." He caresses my belly and I sigh in delight. "You're so magnificent, Baz."

"Hm. Flattery will get you everywhere."

He laughs and picks himself up on his hands and knees, hovering over me. His glasses are about to slip off the tip of his nose, so I pluck them off and set them on my bedside table, on top of my insomnia pile of legal journals.

"Can I fuck you?" he whispers.

I roll my body to bump my belly into his. "You're disturbed, Snow."

"'S that a yes?"

I grin. "Yes."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a Dead Dove: Do Not Eat kind of chapter: 5,000 words of graphic labor and birth. If you're not into that, click to skip to the end note where I've summarized the plotty bits for you.

BAZ

I had my first contraction shortly after Simon's birthday, at twenty-nine weeks gestation, and I was positively terrified.

But nothing came of it, just some discomfort. Simon and my stepmother calmed me down, and everything was fine. The babies stayed safely inside me, and I got used to the practice pains.

Today is thirty-seven weeks and two days, and this contraction is not like what I've had before.

I officially left my job at the firm in the city a month and a half ago (earlier than I'd planned, but preterm labour was too great of a risk with that stress), but Simon's working up until I deliver, and then he'll take a few weeks' leave of absence. He's at work now, and I have to hunt for a minute to find my mobile in my cluttered office and text him.

_Had a contraction. Real one this time._

I hit send, and try to focus on the insurance policy I've been trying to focus on for three days.

It's only been about thirty seconds when my phone rings.

I time the contractions for the rest of the afternoon, but they're sporadic. Simon checks in every hour, and I wonder if he's getting a bloody thing done or just annoying everyone in earshot. I give up on insurance and rearrange the baby clothes in the nursery yet again, make sure the blankets are stacked just so.

When Simon gets home he's in a whirlwind, and I think if he still had magic he'd be crackling. I'm surprised by how calm I am, actually; maybe it's just that I'm absolutely bloody ready for these little ones of mine to join the world. Pregnancy has been magickal (quite literally) but I've had enough. I was hoping they'd be born on the autumnal equinox, but that's almost a month away still. I'd have had to make it to forty-one weeks, which is entirely too many for these big twins. Late August will have to do.

I'm quite ready to have my body to myself again. I'm going to have to endure a bit of pain between now and that, though.

SIMON

Baz is handling this whole childbirth thing much better than I am. I'm dizzy and agitated, and I barely sleep the first night. I keep checking on him, but he sleeps through all of it, just a couple of breathless grumbles a few times.

In the morning you'd never know he was in labour. After he has his tea he takes his violin into the living room and noodles on it while he's stretched out on the couch, and I can tell when he has a contraction because he stops playing and I can hear him breathing through the pain, and when it's over he calls out the duration and spacing to me. I do my best to act normal, to get as much meal prep done as I can before our lives change. Baz eats, but only lightly. I have to convince him to have his usual litre of blood.

In the afternoon we go for a walk, hoping to encourage his labour to speed up, since the sex we had after lunch didn't do it -- his contractions have been between ten and fifteen minutes apart all day. (The sex wasn't a waste of time though: it was lovely and relaxing to be intimate with him like this one last time.) When we get to the park the children's football practice is just finishing; we're friendly with the coach, and he offers to let us kick a ball around to get Baz moving. Baz laughs because he hasn't seen his feet in a month and just walking here was difficult. But he has a handful of good strong contractions while we're out, so the walk was worth it, he says.

By eight in the evening I'm exhausted, and Baz is seeming worn down too. I thought things would be progressing faster, but his contractions are still almost ten minutes apart, though they've got more regular. He says the babies are squirming around normally, so things are fine. We go to bed together, and I'm asleep almost immediately.

I wake up to Baz gasping, then biting back a moan. I'm wide awake in an instant and turn on the light even though the sun is rising: he's got the blanket thrown off him and he's on his side with his eyes shut, panting and squeezing his hands into fists in front of his mouth.

I'm too petrified to think, much less act -- he hasn't been in pain like this before, it must be time. I've been preparing for this for months but the reality is absolutely shocking, and I fear that he's dying, or that he's suddenly going to have the babies right now. But he relaxes after a minute, opens his eyes, and checks his phone. He looks up at me and all I can see is his exhaustion.

"Time to call Vanessa," he says.

BAZ

My waters break while Simon is calling our midwife. Contractions are three minutes apart and absolutely brutal, and I'm a bit afraid that the first baby will simply arrive before my help does. I change into dry pyjamas and use the bathroom, and sitting on the toilet I almost feel like I have to push. But I don't, I empty my bladder and find Simon again.

By the time Penelope shows up half an hour later ( _ten_ damnable contractions), I'm ready to bite someone's head off, and I don't much care whose it is. I've been in labour for two days now, barely slept last night, and I am absolutely finished with it. Simon and Penny have me drink some blood, and it tastes vile and my stomach is upset but it calms me a bit. Makes me feel capable, like I can do this and get it bloody _over_.

Simon is crawling out of his skin, but Penny is calm and I thank everything in the world for her. She's six months pregnant with her second, she knows how this is. She's so good for both of us. She lets me feel her baby kicking when I'm relaxed enough to think of anything but my own ordeal, and keeps me walking around in between contractions. I have no idea why this helps, but it makes me feel more like myself and less like this was a tremendous mistake.

My labour continues, Vanessa arrives, and as the pain intensifies and the respites all but disappear I give up pacing the house in favour of trying to disappear into the bedroom, my most comforting sanctuary. My entourage follows me. I don't have it in me to care anymore.

This pain is mind-bending. I've been in pain before, horrible, unnatural pain. Nothing like this. This is so physical, so deep. It's sucking me down into my body, making me tingle and tremble and feel like vomiting.

I just wish it would stop.

"Getting close now," Vanessa says, distantly.

Simon says something, but I can't hear him.

My insides are moving around, pulling and changing. The babies are still, though; this is all me. They're waiting. Waiting for me to do something.

I can't _think_. I'm doing things without trying to, making noises that don't sound like me, don't sound like a person at all.

Simon's touch is here, though. I can smell him and feel his warmth. He holds me when I'm floating away.

Gradually the pain lessens, I come back to the present. We're in the bedroom still, me and Simon and Penny and Vanessa. Where I've intended to do the actual birthing. I'm kneeling beside the bed, my face pressed into the blanket, and I pick my head up to look at Simon who's beside me, rubbing my back. He smiles gently.

"Okay, darling?"

I nod, because I'm not sure what else to do. The pain is less now, though I'm sure it's just temporary.

He pushes some hair back off my face and kisses my cheek. I’m coming back to myself again, I think. Ready to finish this, ready to meet my babies.

I think I'm ready to push.

SIMON

Watching Baz prepare himself to give birth to our children is mesmerising. After a bit of indecision he's knelt by the bed again, but now he’s taken off everything except his t-shirt, and he’s more intentional, rolling his hips around, adjusting his stance every now and then. Penny's sat on the bed holding one of his hands and Vanessa is behind him with gloves on. I'm holding his hand too, but I'm also trying to watch. I want to see when our children come into the world. I'm supposed to be helping count while he pushes, but I'm too distracted. Penny does it for me.

It's not quick. Even though Vanessa says he's fully dilated, Baz labours for quite a while, pushing on and off, when he wants to, and he seems to be doing all right with it. We chat a bit between contractions, and I coax a couple of smiles from him. He starts getting sweaty after a while, so Penny fetches an elastic and he puts his hair into a sloppy bun.

When Baz stops talking with me I know we're getting close; his sounds change, he pushes harder. Suddenly he lets go of Penny and reaches down, under his belly, groaning. " _Oh, fuck._ "

"All right?" Vanessa says.

Baz nods. "Mm-hmm." He blows out a breath and sucks in another one, eyes tightly shut as he pushes, grunting deeply in a way that sets my heart thundering in my throat.

Vanessa shifts, bending low to look between his legs. My heart is pounding and I can't move.

Baz exhales forcefully and squeezes my hand.

Vanessa pops back up, smiling. "Beautiful, Basil. Baby one is well on their way. Did you get to feel?"

He shakes his head. "I didn't -- can I?"

"Of course. It's your birth."

He looks at me, surprised. I raise my eyebrows. I don't know what I'm saying to him.

He takes a steadying breath. "Go on then, Simon, have your look."

I let go of him and allow Vanessa to show me how to see what's going on -- it's quite awkward, I can't imagine how exposed he feels like this. But I see his hand, and as he parts the bulging skin I catch a glimpse of something dark and shiny as he strokes it with a couple of fingertips.

His breath catches, a little sob. Penny murmurs to him.

This is my baby. _Our baby._ I've seen them for the first time when they're still inside Baz.

I'm jealous, as I sit up. That he's been holding them for months and I haven't. That he's touching one of them.

And then he groans and tenses, pushing again.

"Easy now, Papa," Vanessa instructs. "Just gentle pushes now, don't go too fast. I know you're strong."

Baz catches his breath and turns his head to the side, watching me through half-lidded, unfocussed eyes. I take his hand again and hold on tight while has pants shallowly.

Vanessa keeps coaching him, but I can't hear her over the rushing in my ears and the pained sounds Baz is making. I just wish I could see….

And then he's breathing deeply again, and Vanessa’s hands are on his hips. "Up a little please, love," she says. "You're just about crowning, which means I'd like a little bit of space so I can help."

He sets one foot flat on the ground and gets the other knee under his hip, spreading himself wider, and with his bum in the air now I take another peek.

"Very good," Vanessa murmurs, examining him gently. "Give us some more panting on the next."

Merlin, that's the top of our baby's head. There's dark hair slicked down to a purple scalp pushing from between his legs, and there’s mucus and bloody fluid dripping from it, down his thighs, onto the paper pad on the floor. Baz’s trembling fingers are stroking it so gingerly, so lovingly.

Vanessa gives me a look. "You okay, Dad? Not going to faint?"

I shake my head quickly, and Baz laughs weakly, his head leaning on the edge of the bed. "Wouldn't that be a sight." I'm astonished he can speak at all, like this.

Penny grins at me from her perch up on the bed, where she's stroking Baz's hair. (Shep got sick during the birth of their son, and I won't be like that.) I lean back over to Baz and bump his forehead with mine; I'm too overcome to say I love him out loud. We stay like that for a good long moment, until I hear his breath catch with another contraction and he cries out between clenched teeth as he pushes again.

A lot of sounds happen all at once, and then Vanessa has one hand cupping the baby's face and the other patting Baz's flank while his body heaves with effort and more fluid flows down his legs.

And then Penny is hovering over me, and she sounds far away. "Simon?"

I blink, but it's hard. "What..?"

"He's all right." She sits up, looking over her shoulder.

"Well done, Snow." Baz's voice is breathy but strong. Teasing.

I have to see him.

I try to sit up, and Penny helps. I've been lying on the floor a bit removed from where I was, and I'm not sure how long it's been but Baz has turned around, he's sitting on the floor with his legs splayed out, all wet and a bit bloody and --

He's holding a baby. It's crying.

I almost pass out again.

But I don't, I crawl over to him and kiss him as hard as I can, and he shows me our firstborn.

"Our girl," he whispers. "Say hello to your dad, little one."

Her face is pinched and red, and she's squalling, and the cord is still attached. "Hello," I say, and I can barely force it around the lump of emotion in my throat. I reach in with one finger and brush her cheek and I can barely believe she’s real….

Baz tips his forehead against my cheek. He's sweaty and weak, and his swollen belly is still heaving as he breathes, but his arms are strong around our daughter. "You want to name her now?"

"Adelaide," I say, without hesitation. It's the one from the top of our list, and an old Pitch family name. The one I've been calling her in my mind for two months. _She's finally real._

Baz nods. "Adelaide Natasha."

Vanessa lets me cut the umbilical cord once I’m steady, and Penny poses us for a couple of pictures. Eventually Vanessa takes Adelaide for her checkup and cleaning, and Penny and I help Baz onto the bed. He's not done yet.

BAZ

I lie down and snatch almost an hour of something resembling rest before my contractions get strong enough again that I feel like I need to push. I'm so tired, but my body knows what to do this time. I can tell it'll happen quickly, I can feel the second baby low in my pelvis, ready to be born.

I bear down a bit without meaning to, and I feel a pop. Vanessa seems to have noticed my gasp of surprise, and offers me her arm to pull myself up to sitting. "All right?"

It's still squeezing, and I'm trying not to push. "Something popped."

She looks down between my legs, and I realize now that I feel wet. "Looks like that was the second amniotic sac rupturing! Baby two must be ready."

Penny helps set up a bunch of pillows behind me, so I'm almost sitting upright. Vanessa has listened to my belly and then she's between my spread legs, and Simon is awkwardly trying to decide where to be.

He's holding Adelaide like it's the most natural thing in the world.

A contraction comes. I push, but I’m not really trying. I can feel Simon radiating nervous energy and he’s _not bloody helping things_.

"Sit down, Snow," I finally snap at him. Can't have him swooning again, not with our daughter in his arms.

He sits quickly on the bench in the corner. "Sorry."

I grunt another half-hearted push, and then sigh as the pressure lessens, tipping my head back. Penny brushes my hair off my brow, and I try not to squirm when Vanessa pushes my cock aside to feel inside me.

I'm half erect. It makes no sense at all, this isn't remotely pleasurable. But I'm full of blood and I suppose it's all in my pelvis right now, pleasure or not.

I look up at Penny. "Would you trade with Simon?"

She looks surprised for half a second. "Yeah, of course."

She gets up and takes Adelaide, and Simon is on me like a magnet. He's just what I needed, and I relax so suddenly I almost cry.

"All right, darling?" he whispers into my hair while he’s arranging himself behind me, supporting me.

I hang onto his arm that's across my chest. "Yeah."

"Almost done," Vanessa says, palpating my belly. "Baby number two is still in good position for you, and he's fully engaged in your pelvis. Go ahead and push good and hard when you feel like you need to."

I nod, and another contraction builds. I let myself groan as I bear down, as the pressure grows in my pelvis.

It feels like nothing is happening. I keep pushing with the contraction because at this point I don’t have a choice, my body is just doing this. I let Simon tell me when to gasp a breath and then I'm pushing again.

When it's over, I sag against Simon and try not to cry.

"Wonderful," Vanessa says. “That was nice and strong, just don’t wear yourself out."

Simon takes my hands. "Okay?"

I shake my head. "'S so hard."

"I know, love."

"I'm so tired."

"I know." He kisses my neck gently, squeezes my hands and holds our arms firmly around me. "I wish I could do this for you."

I let out a little sob. "Thanks."

"Shh," he murmurs against my skin. "You've got this. You're so strong, Baz. You can do it."

I nod and I refocus myself, gather my resolve. _I can do this._ I've done it once already, I've gone through _everything_ to get here. I always said I'd do anything for Simon, and this is my chance to prove it.

I push hard with the next pain, and the next, and the next. Simon is right here with me, counting breaths for me while I push, and Penny is watching intently with our daughter in her arms. Vanessa is saying things but I can't hear her over the echo of my own voice in my ears, grunting and groaning like an animal as I lose myself to the effort of birth. Simon holds up one of my knees and I take the other, curling forward as I strain.

I don't know how long it's been. It's gone grey outside the window and the only thing in the world is this room, the six of us. The pushing.

Finally the stinging begins. I remember this, I know what to do: I stop pushing, or I try to. My body won't let me stop. I'm panting but I'm still bearing down. I drop Simon’s hand and reach down, set my fingertips on the tiny head that's trying so hard to get out. _Wait, please…._

"It's all right, Basil," Vanessa says, one hand resting on my belly, the other down below. "Push if you have to, you’re fine."

I push as hard as I can. I scream.

I gasp when the worst is suddenly over. When I can wrap my hand around him.

"The head is out!" Vanessa says. “And he’s still in the caul.”

_He’s in the caul? Oh Merlin, oh magic…._

"Fuck," Simon whispers, and I vaguely hear Penny mutter something with magic over the sound of my own pained panting.

“It's covering his face,” Vanessa says, pushing my fingers aside, and then there's a tiny _snip_. “There, now he’ll be able to breathe when you push his shoulders out.”

I can't speak, I'm breathing too hard. I can't even think. I'm all instinct. _I'm holding my son's head. My fingers are on his face, I can almost see him over my belly…._

Before I’ve rested enough another contraction comes, and I push with all I've got left, and then even more, and then … that's it. He slides out of me with a splash and I barely take half a second to be glad the pain is over before I have to see him, I reach for him with trembling arms….

He's not crying.

Vanessa is focussed, working with a towel --

A tiny scream splits the air.

My heart starts beating again. Simon gasps and clutches me.

Vanessa lifts him onto my belly and I grab him immediately. He's wiggling and screaming and bloody perfect, even with a membrane covering most of his head and one shoulder.

"Congratulations, Papa," she says. "You've got a pair of lovely big babies. I don't think I'll even have to cast anything, which is rare with twins. You baked them perfectly."

I’m delirious. I must be, that’s the only way to explain how I'm experiencing every emotion known to humankind right at this moment. I have _another_ baby.

Vanessa casts a whole bunch of something, and carefully removes the caul to a piece of paper. Then Simon cuts the cord, and we name our son: Alexander Malcolm. That was the name on top of the list, and that he's a caulbearer makes it perfect.

Once he's been given a clean bill of health Penny brings us Adelaide too and then I've got both of my arms full of babies and nothing in my life has ever been better.

I let myself cry. I'm exhausted but so happy, so deliriously happy. Simon is holding me, holding all three of us.

We've got a _family_.

Penny brings bottles of formula -- for everything this spell did, it didn't give me breasts. Simon and I feed our children with our shirts off, holding them to our skin as Penny suggests. I've got Adelaide and she's so warm and lovely. She doesn't seem to mind that I'm a bit chilly. She's inherited her father's appetite, it seems.

While we’re feeding them I deliver the afterbirth, and it seems to take more than the couple of pushes that Vanessa promised. She seems a bit concerned, and she’s scrambling a bit for more absorbent pads halfway through. Simon pales a bit when he sees it, his throat bobbing visibly as he swallows.

"You feel okay?" He croaks.

I'm not sure. It was surprisingly painful. I’m a little light-headed, I think, a bit chilly, but in all it's not that bad. Wasn’t worse than being shot. "I'm all right."

He swallows again. “Wasn’t expecting that much blood.”

"Quite a bit has come away," Vanessa says, carefully. "More than just placenta." Penny is peering wide-eyed over her shoulder and for the first time I feel naked. One of my internal organs on display for analysis.

"Don't suppose I need it anymore," I say. The smell of iron is becoming overwhelming, the room is getting hazy with my own blood. My head is starting to swim. That's a bit concerning. "We created it just for this, and I'm not getting pregernen again." I try to give my husband a stern look and ignore the fact that I couldn’t get my mouth around the word _pregnant_ properly. “No matter what you say, Snow.”

Simon presses a kiss to my temple, and I melt into his touch. "I love you, but if you die of blood loss, I'll fucking kill you."

I laugh, and my abdomen hurts tremendously. I don't care, I'm too happy. _I'm holding my daughter._ "Don' think you'll be rid of me that easily, Chosen One; 'm a father now."

* * *

I wake up feeling a bit like I'm suffocating in other people's magic. There's Bunce, and my father, and probably Vanessa. I didn't know my father was here, I wasn't going to call him until later, but something tells me to be glad he came sooner. I ache so badly, all over. I'm also ravenous and monstrously thirsty.

I look around the room without moving -- my entire middle from ribs to hips feels like it's been scooped out and torched, and my crotch is throbbing with the aftermath of unspeakable things. It seems like it’s dark outside; the only light in here is the lamp on the dresser, and no one is here except Simon. He's asleep on the bed beside me, on top of the blankets and fully clothed, snoring a bit. One baby is on his chest and the other is on the bed between us, both of them sleeping too.

I glance down at myself. I'm bundled up in blankets -- and still cold -- and my belly is practically flat. I was expecting it to stay swollen for a while, but I suppose my uterus was done with me entirely. Which explains all this magic, I'm glad I don't quite remember anything after we fed the children.

I look back at Simon, and my heart swells. This is my family, my husband and our children. Our twins, two little lives that we created together. I could lie here watching them sleep forever. I've watched Simon sleep for years and years, and it's a million times better with our babies.

The gentle sound in here finally registers -- Simon must have put on music. After a moment I recognise it: Hosier. I'd meant to listen to _Wasteland, Baby!_ to help with pushing, but by the time I got there I was too far gone to think of anything but the task at hand.

Bless Simon eternally for remembering it now. I need the comfort with all the recovery I'm suddenly doing. I want nothing more than to lie here basking in the music and the presence of my little family.

But I can't, actually; I'm far too thirsty. I can feel my fangs trying to extend even while I do my best to relax.

It takes a bit of effort to extract an arm from the bedclothes, and I touch Simon's hand. He starts, blinks at me, then checks the baby on his chest, who's still sleeping. I can't tell if it's Alexander or Adelaide, they look the same right now, all swaddled. Vanessa said they were exactly the same length and weight, too. Perfect twins.

"Hi," I say, creaky and dry.

"Hullo," he mumbles, smiling. "Sleep well?"

"Think so. But I'm really thirsty and I don't think I can move." I'm slurring my words just a bit, around the teeth. Simon's eyes widen, and he seems unsure.

I try to roll my eyes. "You can leave them here. I just want butcher blood from the fridge."

"I wasn't--" he begins, but stops when I raise an eyebrow. "Of course, love."

He sets the baby on his chest by the other, then gets up stiffly and kisses my cheek before he goes out of the room.

I let myself relax as I gaze at my babies. I'm sure having them both sleeping like this is going to be a rare luxury.

Crowley, I can hardly believe they're really here.

Simon is back quickly with Penny. They help me sit up in bed -- the pain is agonising until Penny casts **and call me in the morning** \-- and I chug a pint of blood, then sip another. Alexander has woken up, and Simon takes him in his arms. He's such a perfect father, I'm so glad I did this.

"Baz?" Penny's giving me a queer look, and I realize my cheeks are wet with tears.

"Sorry." I wipe them away with my wrist. "Emotional."

There’s a tiny noise from beside me -- Adelaide is awake. I set my blood jar on the bedside table and take her in my arms. She’s unbelievably tiny, perfect and beautiful, with warm brown skin and a head full of soft black hair. And Merlin, the _smell_ . I’ve heard mums talk about baby smell but I never believed it until just now. I can’t possibly put words to it but she’s got _baby smell_ which is absolutely addictive, and underneath that she’s got a faint aroma of fresh butter and cut wood.

She smells a bit like her dad. It’s delightful.

Simon pushes my leg aside with his hip and sits down with Alexander. His skin is paler than his sister's, but he's got the same hair, and all of his tiny features are equally perfect. I lean towards him as best I can, and Simon holds him close enough for me to kiss his head and inhale deeply. He smells almost the same as his sister, but a little more like a forest than a bakery. Still, delightful. _Baby smell._

My _children_!

I can't catch my breath; I'm too full of emotion and I'm crying suddenly, really blubbering. Simon puts his hand on my shoulder and leans in as close as he can, setting his forehead on mine. The four of us are so close that I can hear each of our heartbeats, a heavenly harmony of _life_. One that I'm part of -- my own heartbeat has gone back to being sluggish now that I'm not life support for my babies anymore, but it's still there.

Simon was pure magic. I'm a magickal creature, I reckon; sort of. And our children are miracles, more magic than the both of us combined. I'm overwhelmed.

"You did it," Simon whispers.

I try to nod, to swallow my tears. _I'm alive. I created this._ "It's all for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary for those who don't want to actually read the graphic parts: 
> 
> Simon, Penny, and midwife Vanessa assist Baz in birthing the twins at home. Simon faints when the girl is born, and when he comes around they name her Adelaide Natasha. The boy is born an hour or so later, and they name him Alexander Malcolm. He was born in the caul, which is auspicious. Both babies are large and healthy.
> 
> Baz's body expels his entire womb afterwards, and it takes rather a lot of magic to stabilize him but he's okay, just in a lot of pain and has lost a lot of blood. When he wakes up he's super emotional about how much he loves his babies and Simon.


	5. Chapter 5

SIMON

There are _so many_ people in this house right now. I'm not sure if this is usual for mages, or maybe just for posh families like the Pitches, but apparently a lot of Baz's relations have turned up to wish us well and see the new babies. I feel like I should be trying to host, but I’m not leaving Baz’s side, and he’s not getting out of bed for the next couple of days at least. He just laboured for three days, birthed two children, and lost an internal organ and quite a lot of blood. I feel a bit like if I let him out of my sight I might find that he didn’t pull through after all.

But he snored next to me all night, whistling gently through that lovely nose that I broke so long ago. I didn’t exactly sleep, but that’s all right, since the twins needed frequent attention. I suppose I should get used to this. Baz woke a couple of times, held them, but he was back asleep before long.

This morning, Penny has taken over my household, and from what I can see she’s doing a bang-up job. Our guests are well-behaved, and there's a tidy mountain of gifts in the living room for us to deal with later. 

Once Baz has been awake for a bit, eaten heartily, fed the babies, and is sitting up in bed fairly comfortably (and stopped sobbing about how happy he is) Penny brings people into our bedroom a couple at a time to meet the babies. 

Malcolm and Daphne are first, since they're the grandparents. They've been around since yesterday, helping out, but they still get to be first. Malcolm stopped Baz bleeding out last night, and Daphne has been saving my arse with the feedings and nappy changes. They've both been beyond delighted to be helping with their new grandchildren, and it's only fair that they get to sit down and relax with us for a while, just chat and hold the babies.

I'd never have expected Malcolm Grimm to coo, but he does it. Both of the babies seem totally fascinated by him, and he really has a way with them. I'd always thought he seemed a bit cool toward Baz, but it makes sense now why he's a father of five himself. He fucked up a bit raising Baz, but he really is great with kids.

There's a brief discussion of Baz's mum, of Natasha Pitch -- our children have her name hyphenated with mine, Snow-Pitch. Baz does an absolutely shit job of keeping his composure, and weeps openly while Malcolm tells him how proud his mother would have been to see this.

(I realize I don't think either one of us ever told Malcolm that Natasha Pitch visited me our last year at Watford -- and now is definitely not the time.)

The girls and Theo join us after a bit and then there are _ten of us_ which is more family than I ever imagined I’d have and it’s more than a little overwhelming. Baz has me take a picture of him with Cecily and Bryony holding Alexander and Adelaide, which everyone but the girls thinks is hilarious. I'm not sure what they think about being aunties when they're still in school.

The Grimm family take quite a bit longer than Penny or I expected, and Baz and the kids take a nap for an hour afterwards. Penny and Shep come to wake them up, and they bring little Kumar, who is fascinated by the newborns. They stay while we feed them, while Baz has some blood, and then Daphne brings us a couple of sandwiches, some tea, and the doctors Bunce.

I really lose track of who all comes to see us after that, and Penny doesn’t let any of them stay longer than five minutes -- just long enough to say hello, coo over the babies, cast a blessing, speculate about what it will mean that Alex was born veiled, and watch us open what they brought. There's lots of nappies. Mordelia has been taking everything away and arranging it in the nursery.

Penny and Daphne and Mordelia are taking turns bringing formula whenever it’s time for a feeding break (which is, thankfully, pretty often). (Mordelia is really stepping up -- I've always liked her but she's really become a fine young woman. And she obviously adores her niece and nephew. I'm really quite proud to have her as a sister in law.)

When Penny decides that it's supper time, she clears everyone out of the house who isn't here to help. Baz says that he saw everyone he's related to that he actually likes, so I suppose it was a successful day. He certainly seemed delighted when Dev and Amber and Niall arrived, anyway.

Daphne brings us dinner, and I feel like I haven't eaten in a week. It's just soup I've had in the freezer, but someone picked up fresh bread to go with it, and it's absolutely delicious. Then we feed the babies, and I change them, and then Baz looks like he's going to fall asleep sitting up.

I help him to the bathroom, get him cleaned up and into fresh pyjamas and back into bed. Maybe tomorrow I'll help him wash his hair. I'm a bit surprised he hasn't cast anything on himself (he's looking a bit of a mess) but I suppose he's too exhausted from everything he's been through.

I tuck him in, then bring Alexander and Adelaide from their little rolling cots and set them in the middle of the bed. Our daughter is sleeping, but our son is awake, and watching his Papa with interest when I set him down.

Baz rolls carefully onto his side and reaches for him. "Hello Alex." He pushes his pinky into the baby's hand, and Alex closes his little fist around it and burbles.

Baz's face splits into a grin, so big his eyes are just crinkles of joy. "Yes, well done."

I climb onto the bed as well, careful not to disturb Adelaide. She moves her lips a bit in her sleep.

Baz looks up at me. "Pretty good first day, I think."

"If you say so." I'm exhausted. "We don't have to do this again, do we?"

"Merlin, no." He puts his fingertip into Alex's parted lips, and the baby doesn't seem to know what to do. Baz chuckles, brushing his nose lovingly. "No, it can just be us for a while now. I've done my duty."

"Can Daphne stay for a while?" I ask. "Only she's been a marvellous help."

He beams at me. "You'll have to ask her, but that's fine with me."

"Think she'll do laundry for me?"

Baz laughs. "I can't picture it, but you never know. Maybe she'll have Mori learn how."

“Your siblings don’t do their own laundry yet?”

He grins, and returns his gaze to our son. “I didn’t do a stitch of laundry until after Watford. You remember Bunce teaching me. How I ruined that one shirt?”

I had forgotten that day -- it was something to behold. “I’ve never seen someone as tall as you have a tantrum like that.”

He sneers at me, but it lacks any venom. “Is there much laundry from … all of this?”

He must not remember when we changed the sheets on the bed, when Vanessa and I went through an entire stack of flannels cleaning the blood off his skin while he was spelled unconscious. The spells it took to clean the mattress. It was a nightmare. “Penny ran some already, but I think it needs bleaching. And the babies just keep making more.”

“Little poop machines,” he coos, tickling Alexander’s chin. The baby opens his mouth in confusion, and Baz chuckles. “Merlin, they’re perfect.”

“I can’t believe we actually made this happen,” I breathe, and I’m getting misty-eyed. I pull off my glasses and set them on my bedside table; cleaning salt tears off them is obnoxious.

“It’s all for you,” Baz says, and the look on his face as he gazes at me sets my soul on fire. “All of this, everything I’ve done is for you.”

“You wanted to be a dad, too.”

“Well, yes, but I wouldn’t have done it with anyone else.”

I’m feeling so much I can’t think, but I need to touch Baz. I pick up Adelaide first, and she doesn’t stir as I put her back in the cot. Alexander gives me a good stare and a fist wave when I come back for him, and I kiss his forehead before I put him down.

“Thanks,” Baz breathes.

“I’m being selfish,” I say, crawling back up beside him, and he quirks an interested eyebrow despite the exhaustion in his eyes.

“Naughty lad.”

I chuckle and bump his face with my nose, then kiss him tenderly.

He melts under my touch, and I roll him gently onto his back. I want to cover him, just absolutely smother him and protect him from the world with my body. But he’s too fragile right now, in too much pain, so I hold back. I touch him like he’s made of glass, or spun sugar. He’s antique lace, beautiful and fragile and precious. He sighs into my mouth, lets his hand drift along my arm as I hold him, caress him.

“I love you so fucking much,” I breathe.

“Oh, Simon…”

I kiss him again, swallowing whatever he might have tried to say. He doesn’t have to say it, he never needs to say it again. He’s given me a _family_. No one has ever loved me as much as he does.

“I know, love. My darling Basil.” I draw back to look at him, and his sooty eyelashes flutter on his grey cheeks. He's smiling gently, his lips parted just so. I kiss him once more. “I know.”


	6. Chapter 6

SIMON

Time has gone all wibbly-wobbly. That's the only possible explanation for how my children are simultaneously already four weeks old, and also only four weeks old.

I've really had my hands full. Baz got back on his feet about a week and a half ago, but he's still pretty weak, gets tired quickly. He's doing what he can, of course, but he has to recover. At least he's got extremely good at lulling them to sleep; he sits with them in the rocking chair in the nursery and sings. He's even worked out how to hold them both at once, though they're growing so fast I'm sure he won't be able to for long.

Daphne is here a couple of days a week now, and Penny tries to come as much as she can as well. But still most of the baby care and housework falls to me. Just keeping the four of us fed is a full-time job. I'm supposed to go back to work in another month, and I'm not sure how we'll manage.

But today I get a bit of a break: we're going away for a few days to Baz's family estate, the one in Hampshire where the magic has recently mostly returned. It's the autumnal equinox, and the Grimms and Pitches are going to have a big ritual party thing celebrating the new generation. This is also Fiona's first time to meet them, and both she and Baz are ecstatic.

Giving the babies into their grandparents' care for a few days makes me feel a bit like a deadbeat dad, but the prospect of a full night's sleep and meals I don't have to prepare or clean up is _brilliant_.

The last time we were here was our "babymoon" back in mid July, but the rest of the family was still officially living in Oxford then -- the magic here has got stronger in the last few months. Having everyone here now feels so much more like the very first time, when Baz and I were still so new to each other. And once again, everything is different in our lives: we're parents now. But at least it's not a secret now, it's not confusing and it's frightening in a different way.

All of Baz's siblings have come down from Watford for the occasion, and Mori and Theo are especially delighted to see Alex and Addie again. When we arrive Daphne takes the baby things, the aunties take the babies, and Baz and I make our way upstairs with our own luggage, to his old bedroom. It feels different even than when we were here in July, and like a different planet than when we were just eighteen.

I don't let him put anything away before I'm kissing him. He doesn't resist, lets me push him into the big soft bed and snog him until my head is spinning with how much I've missed him. He didn't go anywhere, of course, but he feels new again somehow. He's just Baz again, no pregnant belly or awful postpartum injuries. He's just a man now. My beautiful husband.

"I adore you," I whisper into his mouth.

He only hums, and wraps both arms tightly around my back, hooks one leg behind my knee. His face scratches mine; his beard started coming in again a week ago, and he's been too busy to shave. We both have, and we're both stubbly and he's so, so sexy now that I have enough space to appreciate him.

When Malcolm comes to fetch us for dinner, we're still tangled up in each other, sleeping soundly in our travelling clothes on top of the blankets. I bonk my head on Baz's chin when I wake with a start, and he rouses himself slowly, as though he's in pain again.

We haven't had sex since the babies were born, not so much as a mutual wank. I'm intending to talk about that while we're here (I was half intending to simply debauch him just now), but with his father calling us to dinner the time is all wrong. I will my cock to calm down as Baz puts his shoes back on; I never took mine off.

Lots of people have arrived for dinner. I'm sure I met most of them at our wedding, but that was years ago and I wasn't keeping track. It's a whole production, and I just focus on the food and keeping an eye on Alexander and Adelaide as Daphne and Malcolm take them around.

After we've all eaten Baz and I take a little bit to feed the babies in a quiet study, and then we bundle them into their slings and follow everyone outside into the garden.

It's chilly tonight; the sky is clear and the moon is bright. It feels like magic, like that electric tingle I always used to have.

Baz and I stand with our children in the centre of the space, and everyone circles around us with their wands out. Baz takes one of my hands, and we both hold our babies with the other, so close that I can brush my knuckles with his, that Alex in my embrace can probably feel his sister's warmth.

Malcolm starts, and his magic feels familiar, comforting. There's love in it. Fiona is next, hotter; then some others with that Pitch magic.

I have no idea what anyone is casting, I just feel it all whirling around us. It's deep, it's blood and love and flame.

I look at Baz; his eyes are almost shut, his lashes fluttering, and his lips are slightly parted as he mouths along with words here and there. There's a breeze that's moving his hair around and he's ethereally beautiful out here in the moonlight.

He opens his eyes and his gaze on me is fire. He lets go of my hand to take his wand; I wrap my arm around his waist and hold on.

He cups his wand hand around our daughter's head. " **Adelaide Natasha Snow-Pitch. May your name be sealed in the Book of Life**."

There's an echo from the family, and a hot chill runs through me. This is magic like I've never done.

Baz reaches toward me and lays his hand on our son. " **Alexander Malcolm Snow-Pitch. May your name be sealed in the Book of Life.** "

The family echoes again, and they follow it with an **Amen.** that's so staggeringly magickal I almost lose my balance, but Baz has his hand on my shoulder now. The intense love of all this magic is everywhere, filling my lungs, lifting my feet off the ground. Nobody's even casting anymore, it's all just hanging here. It's swirling around my babies, who seem almost reverently still as they receive the blessings from their entire family.

Their entire family … except me.

I may not have magic anymore, but I certainly have love.

I turn Baz just so, looking both Adelaide and Alexander in their huge dark eyes, and I try to hold them and their father in my arms as closely as possible.

"I love you," I whisper. "I'll love you forever and I'll never abandon you. I promise. I'll always be your dad."

Baz chokes on a little sob, and I hold him tighter. The babies are still watching me, and I smile at them as my eyes get misty.

We stand there, all hundred or whatever of us, until the hot flames of the magic have faded into the autumn evening.

Baz sighs. "Getting cool," he murmurs. "I think we should take them in."

I nod, and Malcolm and Fiona part the crowd, giving us a pathway back into the house. Baz takes my hand, and with my entire family in my arms, I make my way into the warmth and light.


End file.
